


fucking finally!

by Madamegoethe



Series: tiny little prompts [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Fix-It, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, fuck mary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 13:11:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2582570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madamegoethe/pseuds/Madamegoethe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John finally sees sense</p>
            </blockquote>





	fucking finally!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [distantstarlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/distantstarlight/gifts), [GeekishChic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeekishChic/gifts).



> I had some wine, I was soppy and I needed fluff so I wrote some. This is in no way beta'ed and I wrote this in about 30 minutes but I'd still(especially) like to dedicate this to Geekishchic and distantstarlight, you are the fastest and most brilliant writers I know and have inspired me so much! I hope this does not ashame you too much, I'll make it up to you one day, I promise!

...and one day, John Watson just couldn't take it anymore.  
The lies, the pain, the...godDAMMIT, the horrible MISSING SOMEONE that wasn't his wife.  
And who was his wife anyway?  
So he packed a few clothes, wrote a short note and took a cab to Baker street.

for the first time in three months,  
He felt like going home, like a shitton of weight had been lifted from his shoulders, like he could finally breathe again.  
He didn't bother knocking, he went straight up with the spare key he still posessed but found the flat empty.  
Empty of Sherlock, empty of food, of tea, of....anything, frankly  
He sank down in his old chair th...oh wait...his old chair was back in place!  
He wondered about it briefly but fell down in it nevertheless, too tired, too exhausted and desperate to ask or wonder and closed his eyes...  
the next thing he noticed was the loud coughing of the kettle and he jerked up, rubbed his eyes and saw Sherlock's back, busy in the kitchen  
"Sh..Sherlock?" his voice sounded raspy and unused and he knew the question was a bit stupid because, lets be honest, who else could it be, but still...  
Sherlock turned around very slowly, nearly hesitantly, much unlike his usual, energetic self and looked him over, evershifting eyes..well, shifting.  
John blinked again and then, for the first time since...ever, really, accepted a cup of tea from Sherlock, who sat down gingerly in his seat across from him, eyeing him curiously but also-could it be-scared?

"Sherlock I...can I stay here tonight?" he croaked, expecting a grin, deductions a mile a minute or sarcastic, scathing remarks but NOT expecting Sherlock's eyes going soft and worried and nothing but a nod and a soft "of course John, your room has never been touched except for the occasional cleaning and you should know that you are always welcome for as long as you like, you are very welcome to stay whenever you like"  
John felt so many different emotions welling up inside of him, looking into these quecksilver eyes that suddenly looked so...warm and different that he did his best to get up and back to his old room as fast as he could, mumbling a faint "thank you" while on the run...from what exactly, he didn't know.  
Once he had his wash and laid back down in his old bed, he tried to will his mind to sleep but his thoughts kept going back to Mary, to her betrayal, her betrayals (because now he knew that the child wasn't his) and..and Sherlock, always Sherlock, the way he had looked at him and just said yes instead of deducing him and his sham of a marriage into pieces of shit, remembered his soft eyes that looked nearly..could it be?...hurt! back in the living room.

He groaned and turned around for another hour before he fell into a very unrelaxing sleep.  
He woke up half an hour later, drenched in sweat and screaming, a strong grip on his upper arm.  
He slowly came back to himself and saw Sherlock sitting beside him, his eyes dark, nearly wet and worried.

"You...you had a nightmare John. You were shouting, I...I thought..I'm sorry if I woke you I"  
"NO!" he said-well,some part of him said, he didn't really decide on it  
then again, a bit softer "No. I'm...I'm glad you're here Sherlock! You...I...do you know what I dreamt about?"  
Sherlock shook his head no but didn't loosen his grip  
John gulped "I...I saw you. shot. bleeding out. Not...not ever opening these astonishing eyes again, never opening that brilliant mouth of yours again, never cutting the best of the Yarders short, never again smiling at me, I just...I couldn't..." there was a long silence in which John subconciously clung to Sherlock's arm and he let him.  
Finally, he looked up, wide, wet, scared eyes looking into Sherlock's unreadable ones, trusting, hoping.  
He whispered  
"Sherlock? I...I left Mary. The Baby...not mine..and..even if..god..how could I be so stupid? she SHOT YOU! my best friend! my..my...YOU!" and he nearly crawled into his lap, seeking warmth, seeking comfort, seeking SHERLOCK.

Sherlock was shocked, thoroughly shocked, but his instict took over after all, his instinct saying "protect John Watson at all costs", being stronger than anything he'd ever experienced and he held him, held him and cradled him against his chest, stroking his short hair soothingly and rocking them both back and forth.  
After a while, he felt that John's tears had dried against his chest and he was shaking his head so he let go, his heart breaking.  
John just looked at him, truly looked him in the eyes and whatever he saw there made him grab his wrists and squeeze them, saying "Sherlock...this is..this is difficult for me. Oh and christ, I'm sure it'll be difficult for you, too, but I just have to...look" he coughed and looked away shortly, blushing.  
Then he inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, turned his head back to Sherlock and began speaking, eyes still closed, hands still firmly on Sherlock's wrists:

"I tried not to see it, I tried everything to deny it ever since you said you were married to your work and I pretty much said I was straight. I tried to be a good mate, a good assistant, and when you...when you..where gone" he choked out "I tried-oh GOD- I tried so hard to forget you and to honestly love someone else and I and I..."

Sherlock suddenly pushed him away, looking shocked and blinking, not unlike when John had asked him to be best man  
"John?"  
"Hm?"  
"Are you...are you aware that this is sounding as if you had been in l-"  
"that's the fucking point you daft git! And I'm only making that confession because I've had three whiskeys earlier, so either throw me out now or defmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!"

He never got any further than that because Sherlock threw himself on his soldier, tasting, defiling, licking and tasting John wherever he could, for the first time ever being incredibly happy that he was alive and with someone.  
In fact, happier than he ever thought he would be.


End file.
